


Freedom Within, Freedom Without

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of time in the life, After a long shift, Banter, Bouncer Michael (Supernatural), Boys In Love, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Kissing, Let's be honest, M/M, Michael also out here trying to get a human job, Michael out here trying to learn to cook, Really would be the type to put 'protector of the host of heaven' on his resume, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Teasing, The little jokes they have are absolutely amazing to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: "Hey now hey now don't dream it's over; hey now, hey now, when the world comes in - they come, they come to build a wall between us. But we won't let them win." ~ Crowded HouseIt's been some time since Michael and Adam have begun sharing a space. Adam goes on his EMS shifts and Michael goes about the house until he decides he ought to get a job as well. And to learn some things that will assist Adam.All he wants is to help.
Relationships: Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030632
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Huhsuabee for help with this one :)
> 
> Am I done describing the utter and complete softness of this pair? No. No I am not.

Residence on the earth in a human-like state, such as it is, can cause all sorts of shocks to angelic programming, particularly when the angel in question is heaven's preserver, protector, and prince. Michael feels an overwhelming sense of need to do SOMETHING whilst now on Earth, particularly to assist the human with whom he is spending his time. He cannot bear to be a burden, to go back to stringent rulings and ways that tamped down his individual self until all that manifested was Saint Michael the Good Son, the soldier, the dutiful.

But he has been here some time now, and Michael decides it behooves him to get a job of his own. Perhaps to surprise Adam, who had forced himself through emergency technical training almost the entire time Michael was gone. Still stabs into him, a feeling the archangel is growing somewhat accustomed to, as his human body seems prone to more...visceral responses to acute stimuli. Not medically related, however; he has learned all-too-quickly not to profess knowledge of anything remotely medical or must needs listen to a verbal dissertation on the efficacy of proper CPR when utilizing both chest compressions as well as rescue breaths. 

He has come to the conclusion that he enjoys perusing procedural crime shows and medical dramas, discussing after he watches. With such cop shows he enjoys the gruff bosses who will do whatever they can to help people but may not do so in an orthodox fashion; i.e. by following every single rule. Important is reconciliation of human imperfection that still somehow holds more grace and goodness than his Father's lack of care for His creation. The way these characters fight so hard for one another, as partners on a force who go so willingly into the line of fire - and the fact Adam works with those, and is one who works so hard to save people, provides Michael with more comfort than he is able to admit. 

Michael watches medical programs on television as well, attempting to ascertain any possibility of what Adam's line of work is like, because the human seems determined for Michael not to hear of horrors, or to potentially see him distressed. Yet Michael internally compares such characters to Adam. He'll see someone who has similar traits to his human - far beyond angel and vessel as they are, these days - and sit still, wondering if that's what Adam is currently doing to save a patient's life... And they differ, for there must always be some drastic decision made on show for the drama, going against all potential medical knowledge or logical reasoning, and Michael speaks (aloud, regardless of whether Adam is home or not) "Adam would never do that."

Adam walks by before or after a shift, scoffing at the medical inaccuracies and grumbling about Michael needing to watch ER, Code Black, or even St. Elsewhere.

***

But Michael cannot remain ever in the house, helping from home. Tis too small a way, and with absolutely no experience looking for a job (never mind in acting passably...human) he is bamboozled on his own behalf when returning from an excursion to the grocery. (Their first joint venture occurred almost exclusively akin to the day in the diner Adam's first day topside. With relief and joy as he grabbed certain products off the shelves, and Michael looking on in fond appreciation as he learns to navigate the aisles with what is called a shopping cart and very nearly overturns several shelves of merchandise.)

He has gotten far better at partaking in such excursions, to the point that Adam will suggest a few things to go to the store for on the way out for his work shift, and Michael, ever diligent even now, goes to collect them. Takes crumpled bills and change and promises himself that he will discover some way to procure a job of his own, and thus as the humans say pull his weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! So continues this series because I absolutely adore this pair. 
> 
> Comments appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

Michael enters the kitchen with "you will never guess what I've done," the most uneasy smile on his face as he pauses after lowering grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, is imbued with a note of relief even as he shifts his shoulders. "I've been offered and provided with gainful employment." If Adam could see his wings, they would ruffle as though ...well, in point of fact the archangel is conflicted. He appears hesitant despite offering up speech, even as Adam sucks in air and stares before his eyes begin to brighten and downright sparkle as he grins with teeth bright too. Now, on what next to say, whether or not he is happy for himself, excited about the idea of procuring a job, or scared that Adam might dislike him departing the house for this reason all at once. 

"That's so great, Feathers! How, what - I mean, what are you gonna be doing?"

It was a strange thing, particularly in the scheme of Michael's sojourns to the grocery store. He has learned where to find particular eatables that Adam enjoys, and knows the faces of the humans on bills well enough to use paper money to pay for a few things, but this time he had been trying to broaden his horizons and order some more substantial food.

He'd gotten the bag of rice Adam asked for, along with a few vegetables, and now he stands in front of the butcher counter with the lights inside glass meat cases shining upon his skin and he attempts not to lean himself against the chill glass for multiple reasons, mostly because of his strength and the fact he undoubtedly would cause issues with cleanliness. 

Already Michael had stood for a beat too long to just be looking at the cutlets in the case and behind the counter, and the worker has a sullen look as they clear their throat and wait. Michael feels a stiffening between his shoulder blades as his back tenses; so does the space of his wings. "Come on, other people need meat here. You just going to stand there for a thousand years?" 

The tone is flat but also snide, and something, everything about it makes Michael's features freeze. His nostrils flare before his arm shoots out to grab the worker's shirt and drag him against the counter on his own side. Fellow expels a miniscule high-pitched yelp. 

"That is discourteous," Michael snarls. "I don't appreciate such distaste" his eyes flicker over the employee. "when I am trying to procure the proper meat for my ..." Vessel, human, only. He and Adam have not discussed any names for what they are to one another. Should they not do so? What is the typical human expression for such as they are? "Home mate," is what he says. "He deserves the best." Relinquishing his hold, the archangel adds "...And I have known him a thousand years. You know nothing of that span of time." 

"O...kay...," The slim worker rubs at one shoulder and blurts "but you still need to know what you want! Sir," adding hastily as Michael's eyes blaze. "I'm sorry, but -" 

"I gotcha," a burly human, taller than Michael, with a thick growth of facial hair and neat attire, simple dark cardigan and slacks, steps up to stand by with a basket on his arm, which is covered in swirling color that the archangel registers as being _in his skin_. Instantly alert for any signs of abomination, he shifts to the side as this being asks "What do you an' your home mate want to make?"

"He spoke of beef with vegetables and rice," Michael eventually responds.

A friendly nod and instant pointing towards various types of meat ("Beef tips would be the way to go if you're going for something like stew,") and he suggests a weight for the kid behind the counter, and then another cut for good measure. "Don't worry bout time," he waves away concern. "My place isn't open for a couple hours yet. Speaking of which," after Michael is handed meat wrapped in stiff slick paper and the other grabs his own parcel out of the glass. "You handle yourself well. I respect that. Know when someone's not acting right." 

Michael draws himself to his full height. "Is this not a place for civility?" He asks. 

"You got a point." They end up walking towards the front desk for checkout together, Michael's eyes tracking across the swirling colors on skin, flowers and vines it seems. The archangel remains tense, but is told in an easy manner: "Listen. I run a club over on sixth. I'm the bartender, but I can use somebody to help if things get rowdy, as they do." He smiles. "You get big corn-fed boys out here, and ladies who don't take no shit. - Sorry, guff," he lifts a large hand. "But I'm heading over. I can give you the address, come check it out, if you like. If not, no biggie." 

But Michael, features intense, whirls on the other after placing his items on the pertinent conveyor belt. "Yes," he says.

An eyebrow goes up. "Yes?"

"Yes, I will come with you to peruse this establishment," he nods to the cashier when asked about bags, facing forward again.

The burly fellow nods in turn as he waits with his basket behind. "Neat-o. Name's Grayson, by the way." He offers his hand for the other to shake. "Grayson Torrence."

"I am Michael," the archangel returns. He must remember the name he had been given by the being who raised him from nothingness. It is not a surname he identifies as part of himself, and yet he knows he must remember. "Michael - Cohen." 

What is important about this job is the fact that he can now assist Adam in a manner that is monetary. He answered questions from Grayson as they walked to his space, an establishment that caters to customers entering late into the night, and signed the documents provided to give shift times and wage management - "You'll be working at a nightclub, Mike," Adam tells him, unable to hide his smile. But he immediately assures "That's awesome."

Michael inclines his head in thanks for the acknowledgement. "I may end my - shifts when you do on occasion," he tells Adam. "Which indicates that I can meet at the medical center and walk you home. If that is amenable."

Adam's eyes widen as he shifts and crosses his arms, leaning away as a flush darkens the tips of his ears. It feels like a real manifestation of something, a promise. And if they are to hold hands or something, then - _shut up,_ Adam tells his brain, blushing furiously.

All he manages in response to Michael's earnest expression is "No, that's - uhm. That'd be fine." _Decidedly more than fine,_ Adam's head yells inwardly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely need Michael in a dark suit looking unassuming but having the ability to take down someone recalcitrant in a nightclub
> 
> Comments appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

The next day - or rather, evening - is when Michael is meant to have his first shift at his new occupation. He had been asked to wear dark clothing allowing for ease of movement, and Adam has a dark shirt and overcoat he tells Michael to wear - "till we can buy you your own, I mean," he looks Michael over critically. "Least you have some dark-colored jeans."

They had gone to buy clothes when it was clear that Michael wouldn't be departing Adam's place. It was not explicitly stated, but both of them could just...feel the need to be together. To stay together. And along with that, to casually reference one another in the context of their relationship. 

It was Adam who first referred to Michael as his boyfriend when they were out. The few times he has daylight hours off, he goes wherever he can with his archangel.

He promises they can go to the department store again together "...If you need some special clothing, Mike. Don't know what, uh, _enforcers_ wear." He gives the angel his own peacoat, it's black and has a large collar that looks nice cocked up, and if Michael looks like a sailor back from sea and sets Adam's mind to whirling, that's nobody's business but his.

Adam makes them both lunch in sacks, as his often goes to the break room in the hospital for nurses to grab something from, because they don't get long enough breaks to even get to the vending machines at times. And Michael has become enamored by the ability to not only eat but by making food. He looks to Adam with a soft expression as Adam offers a small smile. "Good luck at work, Feathers," he says. "I'll see you later."

Michael is let into Grayson's place by a diminutive person with long rippling hair and the biggest smile he's probably ever seen. "I'm Lex," this person tells him. "Michael, right? Grayson told me about your abilities. He's really excited you're here to work with us." Beckoning him back into the space that he'd seen the night before, with a raised dais and a polished dance floor as well as booths and tables. Yells "Hey Kates! Tanner! Got ourselves a newbie!" And a head pokes around the rear door that Michael recalls leading to the kitchen.

"Hello," he says as a tall person strolls out from behind the bar where she'd been stacking kegs. 

"Hey, new fella." She salutes him and introduces herself as Katie. "These guys call me Kates. You can too," she offers, slinging an elbow around Lex, who leans in with an arm wrapping round Katie's waist. "I'm bartender, with Gray when he works. He's been having to take care of crowds recently, but that isn't his element so glad you're here." Looking Michael up and down "Though you don't seem an obvious intimidation type."

The second, Tanner, leans over the counter. "But he is, Gray told me. Yanked some wiseass kid up against the meat counter no problem." With a click of the tongue and a grin, adds "I'd have payed to see ya pull that. Hear th' boss was impressed." Strong hand reaches out and shakes Michael's, marks of color not as expansive as Grayson's but still visible pattern the inside of corded arms, and a winking watch chain nestles round one hirsute wrist.

Michael blinks, lowering his eyes. "I merely wished to be showed some respect," he says. "Politeness. My abilities come from protecting the entire heavenly host, so I'm glad to find a place where they still have and can be of some use." 

His eyes rise to each of theirs' upon registering the silence after those words, but Tanner only chuckles and smacks him on the arm as Katie's eyebrows rise and Lex nods. "Right."

Michael shuffles a little, a gesture he has picked up from Adam as he recognizes the fact he probably ought not have said anything about heaven. But these people seem to accept the words, or at least do not remain alarmed by them. A shout from the back precedes the entrance of Grayson himself before he says it's good to see them and he'll be out to help start set-up.

Nods and verbal acquiescence precede Katie clapping loudly before rubbing her hands together.

"Well alright, Michael, let's see what else you can do til Gray actually gets out here. Always good to have some extra hands before customers show." Jogging back to her spot behind the bar after a squeeze and slap from Lex, she ducks to haul a large metal container into view. Eyes locking on him, "You ever tapped a keg before?" Inquires the bartender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael, complimented on his strength &c: yes of course I'm strong I protected the entire host of heaven
> 
> New co-worker just trying to give a compliment: ...uh huh, riiiight
> 
> I love Michael so much, and the idea of him and Adam sharing clothing of the sort Michael requires for his new job till they get some time to go shopping together is very important to me <3
> 
> Comments appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

Michael gets into a routine.

He helps with set up at work before customers begin to arrive, and then with takedown afterwards, often going into the kitchen to use his skills at washing dishes that he learned from Adam. He walks Adam to his job too, when he can; and in this occupation he has come to see representations of physical affection. 

So it is Michael who curls his hand around Adam's to hold for the first time.

They are walking together in the gathering dusk to Adam's night shift, strolling without speaking, as is often their wont. 

On this occasion, though, Michael is close enough for his fingers to brush Adam's. Which has happened before, only nothing else had come of it but a shared smile. But when Michael touches Adam's hand on this particular occasion, he curls his fingers and takes ahold. Deliberate. Adam's breath catches in his throat as Michael murmurs "Is this... alright?" So softly. Hesitantly. It blows Adam's mind that he is STILL asking whether or not things are okay, like they haven't been together more than a thousand years.

So Adam smiles and shifts his hand, interlocking his fingers with Michael's and gripping the archangel tight. "Yep," he says casually as his heart soars and he does his best not to start swinging their arms between them. Even as his smile threatens to split his face. "This is great."

Maybe Michael doesn't realize what he feels, somehow; he IS still getting used to emotions, and angelic feelings are different than human ones, as he'd said. But Adam feels himself slowly falling apart at the looks in Michael's eyes, the way he smiles and speaks his name; the way Michael is focusing so hard on learning to cook - he says he is staying back with one of his new colleagues, to learn in order to be useful. It's a wonderful gesture, yet begs the question:

Does Michael not know what Adam feels for him?

***

In a way, soon enough, that question is answered.

Adam comes home after a long shift, dragging. He fully expects to pass out directly after getting out of his scrubs, but instead he smells food and throwing himself into a seat at the kitchen table, instantly shovels in what Michael brings to him in a bowl. He gasps out "Holy SHIT this is amazing, Mike!"

Michael flushes. "Oh, thank you, is it really?" And when Adam nods vigorously then, cheeks full to bursting, Michael's eyes narrow in concern "... when did you last eat, Adam?"

Adam, mid-chew, shrugs, scooping another spoonful. When he swallows, he wipes his mouth with his napkin, then answers before he resumes: "I dunno. Noon, or ah, ten... nine-ish...."

Michael's wings flare as his eyes flash. "Did no one relieve you for a meal?" He nearly seethes, even as he scoops more sustenance into Adam's bowl and presses a gentle hand to his shoulder. 

Adam releases a sigh through his nose, an understanding look flashing on his face briefly. "Well, it depends... I could've taken a break today-- I chose not to. That's pretty much it," he explains simply. 

"You --" Michael inhales, grasp tightening before he realizes and smooths his fingers across Adam's shoulder, gentle again. "...you chose not to eat? Voluntarily?" He ducks his head to look in Adam's face. His expression is pinched in worry and consternation rather than anger, as he knows the reasons Adam would not eat can range from many emergency calls to needing to assist others with work on a gravely-ill patient. The only overarching reason Adam would not eat is because he was too busy. "Was it a -- rough day, then?" 

At least, that is the only reason the archangel can allow himself to contemplate.

Yet he makes a silent promise to find a way to Adam during shifts in future, to ensure that he eats enough while there.

A mirthless laugh. Adam stops eating, twisting the tip of his spoon in his food now. "Never NOT a rough day, Michael." he mutters bitterly. Then a smile starts dawning on his face as he cocks his head to the side, staring down at the food in thought. "But it's not so bad. I certainly wasn't expecting this."

Michael's gaze softens even as he lifts his hand from the other's shoulder to touch his cheek and push briefly through Adam's hair. "I'm happy to -- provide," bumbles out the archangel. _I want you to be safe and happy and well, and that means_ "I cannot have you going hungry," he speaks in an imitation of Adam's dry way, but the look in his eyes is incredibly serious. He hesitates but then speaks "Your safety means too much to me. Your presence means too much."

"I won't go hungry, Mike. I think you'd smite me first." Adam chuckles quietly when Michael's expression turns sour at the idea. "Anyway, since when'd you get to be a romantic?" he teases.

Michael huffs a little. "Is it a facet of romantic behavior to speak the truth?" He asks. Choosing not to, or rather feeling unable to verbally address the first portion of what Adam said. He knows the sound of teasing...from Adam it was one of the earlier things he learnt, his sense of humor was fairly consistent, despite everything. Yet still the archangel does not find it in him to consider certain jokes humorous. These words are such a fully acknowledged truth in his head, Adam is so important to him, that he doesn't even register the romantic connotations in saying what he does. He is simply voicing the way he feels, and as such it is true.

"It can be" comes the reply, honest and stolid. He gestures for Michael to sit down before he continues eating. The archangel carefully shifts over to the adjacent chair, hesitates, then sits. Adam goes on, "Sometimes just telling someone what you really feel... It goes a long way." With his free hand, he brushes it up and across his hair where Michael's own hand had just resided, beaming as though he could almost still sense the heat from the touch. So too does his face grow warm. "Not everyone... says someone's presence means 'too much' to them. That's... that's something - special, if... that makes sense."

Michael looks into Adam's face, the darkening of his skin in a flush that covers his entire face even to the tips of his ears as he rubs at his head almost awkwardly makes a lightness fill the cavity of the archangel's chest. He feels a sort of lurching, too, and must clear his throat at the strange tightness in it. "It...does make sense," he says. "I think." It is akin to how he thought, he'd hoped his Father thought of him, but God had only thought of Lucifer 'too much'. And Michael, for all his desperation to receive approval, all the love he bore (and thought he bore) his brothers, this affection for Adam is different. Far more acute, and he is grateful to be able to express the truth in words, for his feelings had initially been nearly impossible to voice. He reaches across the table and squeezes Adam's hand, even as he asks "...have you never thought - never been, meant so much to someone?" He asks. "Surely, your mother -" and then stops for fear of making agony flare in Adam's eyes, the way it does at times when Michael knows he thinks of his mom.

Adam's shoulders fall, but a smile still remains on his features, though it is noticeably more subtle now. His gaze wanders south as he ponders. "Never said that," he hums somberly. "There's a lot about... love... that um," he catches a glimpse of Michael, then darts his gaze away once more, "doesn't make sense. There's different kinds," a chuckle, "Different levels. It's not a simple thing." He sighs slowly. "The love of a parent... isn't the same as, well..." He squeezes the other's hand back, then lets go, leaning back in his chair. He meets Michael's eyes again. "Her not being here doesn't mean that I can't have... or give... those feelings to someone else."

Michael cocks his head, studying Adam closely. He nods, though, because he understands - "...just as I gave feelings to Lucifer, Gabriel, Raphael, and -" he shuts his eyes tight for a moment, a muscle spasming in his jaw "...to my Father, though he made his - choice to leave us behind." Shaking his head as if to clear it, Michael straightens his spine and opens his eyes again, wanting to explain "Yet this...what I feel for you, is - different, exponentially so, than what I feel, felt for them."

Adam presses his lips together. His eyelashes dance across his cheeks as he in turn inspects Michael's visage. When he speaks again, he is careful, taking longer to stress each word. They're too simple. Plain. Stupid. But there's too much to say, too much meaning, so it's all he says. They're just barely above a whisper, though that is all right, still audible as the words are only intended for one. "Yeah... me too."

*** 

A flaring in his chest, something like relief, startles Michael. He had felt from Adam a connection to his feelings, especially in the Cage, but had not known for certain that his feelings, like Michael's, were different to those Adam has otherwise felt, for others. Humans. It is a relief to know they both have these feelings, and Michael expels a little laugh of said relief. "... Really?" he asks of Adam now, head cocked slightly to the side, though the tenor of his tone causes the word to sound more like a statement. It is one of - his face is alight with - awe.

The man leans forward, resting his arms on the table, overlapping and laying against them. "Michael, I'm complex, not complicated," he practically giggles, the angel letting out a sound of his own at the ridiculous use of synonyms. "I have no reason to lie to you. I'm not exactly the kinda person to live in the same place as someone I only tolerate."

Michael's lips curve in an answering smile, and as if he cannot help it, leans forward too. "We have ample reasons for sharing this living space, then," he says, wanting to reach out to where Adam has now pillowed his head on his arms and run fingers through dark blond hair repeatedly. He contents himself with checking the state of the food instead, and offering at the sight of completion "...shall we retire to the sofa to continue this conversation?"

Adam blinks several times as he reluctantly straightens up and away from the other's gentle touch. He nods and the archangel stands, and for a moment his thoughts wander. A rush of cold washes through him despite his rosy face. Oh god, does the angel not know what that sounds like?? His mind immediately blares, but he brushes it aside with an internal chortle and does the same to the bowl in front of him. 

"Uh, yeah," Adam utters, pushing his seat back with his leg after he rises, watching as Michael takes the away the dishes. As he meanders to the couch, he pats the sides of his wrists against his thighs awkwardly in a repetition, hovering over his seat for a second. "So, um..." Once more, his mind travels. What more did Michael need to say? His stomach churns a bit as he plops down with a huff. Definitely nerves, he deduces, and not the food. But why? It's just Michael.

Michael finds himself pausing after rinsing the eating utensils and placing them into the sink. He registers a hesitation in Adam, sees the manner he taps his wrists against his thighs, and how slowly he is settling down to sit upon the couch. Michael hesitates because he finds himself wanting to run, to fly to Adam, wrap him in arms and wings so tightly, and to - well there is something he would very much like to do now, however he often wishes to. And in this instance he is certain Adam is incredibly tired. So he carefully moves around the front of the couch and sits down, picking up a blanket and offering it to Adam.

Upon seeing Michael's gesture, a small breathy sound escapes Adam as the anxiety begins to ebb. He gingerly grabs hold of the blanket.

No. Of course it's not "just" Michael, with the implications of regularity. This is Michael. The very angel who can move his heart with a simple look. Adam mouths a silent thanks, though he lamely pulls the blanket across his lap, the fabric still semi-bundled up, and stares down at it for a moment. He's not cold, but... Michael offered it, so he took it.

This is the Michael that keeps staring at him, through him, like he's desperate to know what Adam's thinking but gracious enough to wait. Michael is kind. Too kind to fully express.

Adam pats the blanket, then grips it with one hand. Clears his throat. "What, uhh, what'd you wanna talk about...?" he inquires cautiously, though his feigning of a momentary memory lapse is none too convincing and the slightest waver in his voice made that clear.

"I -" Michael's forehead wrinkles as he shifts his body to face Adam's as much as he can where he sits beside him. He did not miss the vocal waver, nor was he unknowing of the way the boy had spread the blanket, bunching it as if as a barrier. He does not regret speaking of the strength of his feeling for Michael, surely? The archangel thinks. Then he ponders what he had said about their living arrangements, and wants to make it clear that he wishes to stay with and take care of Adam for as long a time as he is allowed. But first things first. "Adam, are you...all right? Would you like to - lean against me?" He lifts his arm in a slow gesture, hesitant because he wants to answer Adam's query, he just wants to ensure that he is comfortable, first. He makes a mental list of what he could have done that was unseemly or wrong, and Adam is fidgeting and watching him extend a hand. 

Adam immediately feels a pang of guilt when he spots Michael's hand. He wants to reach out, he really does. But his mind is reeling too much and it takes him a bit to realize he's already shaking his head. "Mm, uh... not... I'm okay, Michael." Just wait. He presses on, trying but not certain, "Um, yeah. So we were talking about my mom, right-- did you... did that confuse you, or something?"

Michael feels heavy as Adam shakes his head, refusing the support. That is fine, he is strong in his own right. And by the way he speaks and shakes his head, the way his breathing catches, Michael can tell Adam is currently dealing with strong emotions. "No, it didn't confuse me," he says quietly. "I... I simply wonder if - your feeling for me, if it is similar to yours for her in some manner?" He stops, presses his lips together. "I ask because you...you are different, to me, than any of my family. Including my Father. And not simply because of the fact that you are human." His brow creases farther as he struggles to express what he feels, what, to him, Adam is.

Okay. Okay. This. He can work with this. He puffs out a breath, then shifts in his seat in order to face Michael a bit more. He scrunches up his face, folding and tucking his arms under his stomach as he subconsciously leans closer. "Similar?" He wants to understand. He needs to. "What do you mean, 'similar'?" He blinks once. How best could he explain the concept? Was love really something only humans could truly bare their souls to witness, in all its defects? "I-I don't..." He grimaces, tearing his eyes away from him. "I don't love my mom in a weird way, if that's what you're implying..."

Michael blinks. Wait. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I did not mean to imply an affection with your mother that would be - " he works his face and mouth to add "weird. Not in - I simply mean, in what way...do you love me?" His voice is soft. Pleading, almost. As if he wants to, but does not fully, understand. 

Oh. OH.

Adam swallows, though the first attempt to do so fails and he lets out a short, involuntary groan. His teal eyes find blue and for a split second, he feels exposed. His gaze falters and he stammers, "I..."

God, it's not a loaded question... but it IS. He thought he was pretty clear earlier but... maybe not? And he feels it. He FEELS Michael's eyes, a sense of helplessness that he has only ever allowed Adam to see swimming in their depths. Unknowingly, he starts wringing the blanket with both hands. He doesn't want to let Michael down with his response.

His chest clenches as he draws in a shuddering breath. "...I dunno, Mike. It's... uh, it's a lot." He senses the angel grow stiff, yet he continues, huffing softly, "What do you want me to say...?" He lifts a hand and gestures vaguely. "That I want to be with you every second of every day... so much that it hurts?" His brow wrinkles tight. "That every single time I see you, my heart feels like it wants to jump out of my chest?" He inhales sharply, promptly releases it, then inhales again. "That whenever you smile at me," his throat tightens and he frowns at the noise that comes out despite himself, "and whenever you say my name," his face is hot and his hands feel tingly as he moves them for emphasis, "I suddenly feel like all my problems are just... gone?" He chokes on a sob that wants to spring from his throat. "I-I don't..." He stops, brushing his wrist firmly to one of his eyes to swipe at some tears daring to spill. When he speaks again, his voice is calmer, but still wobbling, still so soft, his features shaken. "...what do you want me to say, Michael. I don't know."

"Adam," Michael breathes, feeling a lift, an ache, his eyes widening as he listens to and hears what the other is saying, as he uses those descriptions to compare to his own feelings, and he looks at Adam with so much feeling. "That," he inhales and gently reaches out to touch Adam's wrist, circling his fingers in a soothing motion when all he wants to do is clasp Adam to him and hold him. He feels... As if, from hearing Adam's words, that Michael could have the ability to fly even without his wings. He cannot finish speaking, and wishes Adam could understand how he feels without words. 

The young man's face twitches, partially due to what he's expressed and partially due to the slightest bit of amusement that rushes through him at Michael's response. That. Ah, what a poet.

But he knows. The intent is there. And so, with his other hand, he reaches out, delicately grabbing hold of the bottom of the angel's shirt. He tugs it lightly, then fiercely, not speaking a word more. He can't bring himself to say anything else, simply focusing on just breathing in tandem with Michael.

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, as my friend put to me rather eloquently, Michael was asking:
> 
> M: do u like me like ur mom?  
> A: gross  
> M: no like... idfk, do u like me in a familial way  
> A: GROSS
> 
> (Meanwhile it's such a familiar concept to Adam, the different types of love, including this being romantic that he's like "i dont... what are u even asking me")
> 
> They are such awkward, sweet, adorable dorks. Also, is Michael getting to be a good cook or was Adam just REALLY HUNGRY you be the judge ;P
> 
> Comments appreciated


	5. Chapter 5

And that movement, as does all of this, it undoes the stiffness Michael has cultivated as he holds himself off and asks, as he strives with everything he has to allow and grant Adam comfort. To figure out and understand what it is that he - they both - feel. Yet the tiny snort of amusement and the sharp needy tug on his shirt work as an unlocking mechanism, it seems. Michael moves and wraps Adam in his arms, gathering the young man against his chest and resting as much of his body as possible to Adam's, _"I want to be with you ...so much that it hurts"_ sounding and resounding within his head. He drops his face into Adam's hair, lips pressing automatically to the crown of his head as he feels Adam moving against him, feels how he clutches, holds. He breathes in time with Adam's breaths and feels his heartbeat pound. Holds on, holds on. 

The response is just as immediate, as Michael settles, Adam becomes restless. Without a second thought, ignoring the protests from the muscles in his legs from the angle he was currently settled in, he suddenly sweeps both legs onto the couch.

Michael, a bit startled by the abrupt movement, is forced to pull back a little as Adam shuffles. He waits and Adam eventually relaxes into his embrace once more, arms now wrapped around his neck. It's only after he recognizes pressure on either side of his lower back that he realizes how Adam is now sitting wrapped around him. Part of the archangel melts as his human presses his face against his own. He does not move, nor does he want to.

***

Adam's breath tickles Michael's skin as he opens his mouth. No words come out right away, but he's in no rush. They remain entwined together for a while, their hearts still hammering away as one before Adam tries to speak again, this time his tone steadier than before, regardless of its now far lower volume. "Michael..." he starts tentatively. There's a small hum of acknowledgment. He smiles softly, giving the angel a light squeeze with his arms for emphasis. "...I love you."

And then it's as though the two of them are suddenly and violently struck dead center in their chests. It isn't a painful feeling; in fact, it's quite the opposite. A surge of emotions pour into them, seizing their hearts-- no, their beings-- with a familiar sensation, something they felt before. Once more, in unison, they are rendered breathless, tears appearing in the their eyes as realization hits.

It's stronger than they imagined. Much, much stronger. And as tears fall, they bask, they relish. It's pure. It's light. It's unbelievable, but it's there. It's really there... and it's theirs. No, it's _**them.**_

Adam can't help but pull and bring a hand to cover his mouth as the tears fall. He weeps. Michael... He can feel it, he _knows._ And yet, he still hesitates. Did... does he really...?

Michael, in response, leans his head against Adam's and tightens his hold around the other, feeling Adam's legs wrapped around his middle. With a loud sound he shifts one hand to Adam's lower back and pulls him even closer. 

And then, withdrawing his face to look into Adam's with adoration, he lifts his other hand to curl around the back of Adam's head before abruptly bringing his own face to press to Adam's cheek, tilting his head so his nose and lips press against the skin of Adam's neck. 

Feeling the pounding pulse point, the warmth and love and LIFE beaming out of him and the human in his arms, Michael feels content. Against Adam's skin he mouths words, endearments of his own, in adoring affirmation.

Adam doesn't move much, save for releasing a blissful sigh that seems to drift through the air like breath during a brisk morning. He does eventually drop his hand, letting it grab a fistful of the other's shirt. Michael's words, however silent, are heard or more accurately felt, and Adam feels weightless. He hums briefly, though he's not completely aware he's doing it, focusing instead on the sweetest, most selfless angel before him.

How is it possible? It's a dream, it must be... and yet it's so vivid. His eyes lazily flutter closed. As he reflects for a while, he is perhaps wrong in his thinking, about Michael's selflessness, sensing this very prominent and nearly intoxicating pull from... where, he's not really sure. But he's giving it too, he can tell. These feelings... he understands. They were so clear that for the moment he feels the intention, beaming at the unwavering idea that he might actually deserve this and at how much Michael desperately wants him to know that he does.

His throat involuntarily clenches and his heart sings again as he thinks: He's selfish, really... Michael is. But then again, so is he. And he doesn't care. If Michael wants an inch, he'd give the mile in a heartbeat.

Adam, shifting in his arms to press himself as near to Michael as he can. Adam, with his breath in the angel's ear, touch so gentle yet his tone fervent on "I love you". Who has created within Michael this depth of feeling that warms him from the inside out, and could stave off any cruelty offered - to him it represents the fact that Adam is here and he is no longer alone. 

He enfolds Adam even tighter in his own arms, hands rising to curl around the backs of the human's shoulders. And then he presses his lips to Adam's neck once more before curling his fingers around its nape and moving to catch his eyes, gaze flickering across Adam's face with all of Michael's own affections in his fingertips, his lips, his gaze.

The young man swallows desperately, sharply drawing in air when he feels Michael's lips grace his skin. The intensity of the angel's gaze is ever indefinable, yet their fierce gleam doesn't immediately strike him with the need to doubt. His breath is merely stolen with their impact, and instead his face grows hotter.

Pressing his lips together, his eyes dart to the side briefly and he turns his head away slightly. When he does, Michael's own seems to follow and Adam can just barely make out the starts of a glimmering smile in his periphery. He shivers, and mumbles, "You stare any harder and you might burn a hole through me, Feathers..."

Michael huffs out a breath that is almost a chuckle, it seems. His gaze grows even softer, though, as he murmurs "is the intensity of my gaze ...a problem for you?"

"...No...." comes the reply, but Adam doesn't look back, save for a quick glimpse in Michael's direction. "I never said that," he adds, placing one of his hands against the other's chest with a slight push, clearing his throat.

Michael does chuckle now, wavering backwards and allowing the shove. His chest bumps as he tries to look into Adam's eyes again, a sense of awe inherent in his perception. A bashful smile creeps onto Adam's face. He titters lowly, his teal gaze eventually wandering to lock with Michael's blue. "Why do you keep looking at me...?" he poses, despite knowing the answer.

Michael's response is to say "Why do you think?" Quietly. His fingers brush over Adam's skin in a gentle massage. 

Another small laugh. "I feel like you're messing with me..." Adam hums, just as quiet, sighing wistfully as he leans forward. Michael, expression remaining warm, shakes his head. He is not yet adept at verbal expression, but touch has yet to fail. He registers the wistfulness in Adam's soft sigh, and with the slightest pressure of his fingers and hand, curls his palm around Adam and tips his head to brush his lips to Adam's after ghosting his lips across Adam's cheek, touch catching and deepening the hold.

Adam instantly melts, placing his hands on and squeezing Michael's upper arms and shutting his eyes. An involuntary croon rises deep from inside; his stomach is subsequently doing backflips. Pulling away, he licks his lips subtly as he shifts his legs again, now resting on his knees, and carefully ushers Michael to lean back against the couch's armrest. He follows, both of his hands reaching out and caressing each side of the angel's strong jawline. Passing a thumb across a cheek, he leans back in, capturing the other's lips in a manner desperate.

Michael, slightly stiff at first, slowly sinks into the cushion and pillows on the couch as Adam's movement encourages him to relax. He expels a deep sound as Adam's lips press to his with abandon, driving into him with the desperation that fuels Michael's own desire to reciprocate, opening his mouth to Adam's kiss as his knees brace Michael's body, in a protective manner as much as the desire to be as close as possible, to press his body into Michael's, one hand catching the archangel by the hair and just holding on as they continue to kiss.

Inevitably, they separate, more for Adam's sake than Michael's, as the two catch their breath. Adam, his features serene and almost distant in stupor of admiration, absentmindely passes a hand through the archangel's dark locks, looking on in starry-eyed fascination at the way the hair moved. A chuckle bubbles out of Michael and he sits up just enough to pepper kisses onto the young man's nose, cheeks, and jaw. As he does, which causes Adam to close his eyes once more, he speaks against the skin, voice tender: "Do you know why I can't stop looking at you?"

"Wh... mm... no?" Adam offers muddledly.

Michael stops, pulling back to examine his human's visage once again. He beams, sighing through his nose. "...Because you're radiant."

***

The human's eyes widen for a moment as he works his mouth. Unsure of how to respond, he drops his head, his expression turning sheepish. Staring down at the wrinkles in Michael's clothes, a wavering smile briefly passes over his features before he ultimately drops it. He swallows hard, shaking his head and blinking a few times, his brow creasing slightly. "I... uh... I don't..."

"You think I'm wrong...?"

A huff. "More like you're flattering me too much."

Michael's brows crease. Adam's words and aspect are concerning in that he sees flattering in what the archangel says, which causes Michael to shake his head and shift his shoulders, rising to focus closely on the young man. "It isn't flattery," Michael says firmly. "It is how I see you."

A jolt of diffidence strikes Adam as his eyes snap to meet Michael's. His heart aches when he sees the unfeigned expression the angel wears. He doesn't move, he's almost afraid to, like he half expects this to be a dream. In that moment, Michael seizes the opportunity to lift his hand, brushing lightly at Adam's bangs. The celestial begins to beam again, and this seems to snap the young man out of his daze. Before he thinks about it, his hand shoots out to cover Michael's face, his own as red as a tomato.

The archangel chuckles knowingly from behind the other's hand and, without missing a beat, says, "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean I am not smiling... but alright, Adam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much softness, I am completely and utterly invested and am going to write more about Michael's job and Adam dealing with patients - likely after the holiday. Stay safe out there, and I hope you enjoyed this one.
> 
> Let me know what you think, comments appreciated :)


End file.
